REFLECTION UPON SPRING

Spring always brings with it a time of reflection and new beginnings and I always get bogged down with trying to decide how to improve upon last year and how to scrape winter's sludge from my marrow.  I become a melancholic mess this time of year; home sick and sick of being inside walls for months.  I want to stretch my limbs out as far as they will stretch and I want to feel the dull ache of cold slowly dissipate with the sun that creeps forward so stubbornly and with a hitch.  I want to shove my hands down into the mud until it touches my elbows and I want to feel the sharp salt of the ocean air deep inside my nostrils.  I want to listen to the buds on the trees open up; want hear the creak and crinkle of the leaves burst free.  I want to hear the whisper of the daffodil as it shrugs through the soil.  I want to watch the awkward young seagulls toss their clams from 15 stories up, gliding down with determination before their next of kin sabotages the entire operation.  I want to listen to the deep baritone repeat as the fog rolls in, bringing a fuzzy chill that fills every crevice of my skin.  I want to run and run; I want to run until I have exhausted every demon that has been chasing me, until they are all panting and riddled with exhaustion, until I can leave them many harmless miles behind me.  Only then can I slow to a jog. Only then can I let go of winter. Only then can I let go and let spring heal the wounds.